


Gentle Hands

by WriterWithNoName1



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Praise Kink, Quickies, Romance, bottom!Arthur, top!Albert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 22:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18352778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterWithNoName1/pseuds/WriterWithNoName1
Summary: Arthur and Albert meet up in the wilderness. They spend an intimate moment together.





	Gentle Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Just some soft bois being soft boyfriends together ;-; Arthur is weak for affection fight me sir

“Morning, Mister Mason.”

Albert Mason took a step back from his camera and smiled at Arthur, his brown eyes alighting with pleasant surprise. “Mister Morgan! What brings you out here on this dazzling day?”

Strolling over, Arthur held up muskrat he’d trapped that same afternoon and watched in amusement as the photographer reeled back a little at the sight of it. “Just doin’ a bit of hunting.” He said.

“So I see.” Albert grimaced, and went back to fiddling with his equipment.

“Not a huntin’ man, Mister Mason?” Arthur asked, tucking his catch away into his bag. He guessed the answer before Albert spoke, but it was nice to make conversations with the man. It was like taking a small glimpse into an unfamiliar world – where a man wasn’t chased by the ever present threat of destruction, be it from a bullet, knife, or plain and simple misfortune.

Although, Albert was awfully clumsy, and seemed to practically walk into danger for the sake of his craft. Arthur wished the man would at least carry a gun to defend himself if needed.

“No... I’m not.” Albert admitted. “I haven’t much the stomach for it. But I don’t mind meat when it’s been cooked.”

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. “You really are a city boy, aren’t you?”

The other man coughed awkwardly. “Yes, well, we can’t all be outdoorsmen like yourself Mr Morgan.” He sighed, looking a little downcast. “I know you must think me a complete fool, getting into such blunders out here in the wilderness.”

Something in Albert’s tone made Arthur panic, and he was quick to correct his mistake. “I didn’t mean it like that- it’s not bad, just different. I’m sure you can do things I can’t.”

Albert looked at him quizzically, tilting his head to one side. “Like what?”

“Um.” Arthur struggled for a moment. “You can probably go to a fancy party in a nice suit and not feel like a monkey dressed up?”

There was a pause, and then Albert laughed. It began with a snort, and then descended into shoulder shaking laughter. Arthur’s throat tightened and he dipped the brim of his hat down over his heated face. Oh, he was in such trouble.

“I will take your word for that, Mister Morgan.” Albert wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. “Though, I’m sure you’d look very dashing in a suit.”

It was Arthur’s turn to laugh now. “You ain’t seen me.” He looked to where Albert’s camera was pointing – a field of long grasses, gently swept here and there by the wind. “Whatcha taking pictures of this time?”

“Bears!” Albert said cheerfully. “I’ve left a big pile of meat just over there and I hope it’ll attract a mother bear and her cubs that I spotted earlier. 

“Bears?!” Arthur spluttered, reaching for his carbine repeater, senses now highly alert, “are you kidding me?!”

Albert smirked, gently patting Arthur on the shoulder. “Of course I am, Arthur. Though your face is rather priceless.”

Relaxing, Arthur glared at the photographer. “You have no idea how funny that isn’t.” He grumbled.

“Terribly sorry to tease you, sir.” Albert grinned boyishly, he didn’t sound very sorry. “It won’t happen again.”

Crossing his arms, Arthur said, “So what _are_ you taking photos of, then?”

“The journal is doing a special article for Easter,” Albert explained, looking through his camera at the still grasses. “All about the native _Leporidae_ of the United States.”

Arthur blinked in confusion. “The… what now?”

“Rabbits, Mr Morgan, and hares.”

“Oh, right.” The outlaw scratched the back of his head. “Guess you won’t need protecting, then.”

“Hopefully not!” Albert replied, smiling, before turning toward the field with a slight frown, “there are some jackrabbits hiding in there… and I’ve been waiting for them to come out for the best part of two hours now.”

Arthur knelt down and peered in-between the long, swaying strands of grass. He looked hard for any sign of twitching noses or perky ears, but all looked still and quiet. Perhaps the noise of their conversation had spooked the residents away.

“Might be here a while, they can probably smell you.” Arthur said, standing back up.

Albert let out a puff of frustration. “As I suspected, I’ve spoiled my chances before I even begun.”

Reaching out, Arthur gripped the other man’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He was surprised to find a little muscle under the layers of fine city clothes, and the heat from Albert’s skin seeped right through his shirt to Arthur’s hand. His heart did a funny little jig in his chest.

“Don’t matter, they’ll be here tomorrow,” Arthur consoled, trying to give Albert a bit of comfort. “You gotta come earlier, approach them quietly, maybe I can come down and help you.”

Albert brightened on the spot, his face lighting up. “Would you? Why you are a gentleman, sir.”

“You need to stop calling me that.” Arthur picked up some of Albert’s things as the photographer packed away his beloved camera. “I’ve done some real ungentlemanly things in the past.”

“In the _past_ , yes, but now you’re helping a buffoon with his hobby.” Albert glanced at Arthur out of the corner of his eye; the look was warm and tender. “We should always try to live in the here and now. Onwards and upwards, Mister Morgan.”

Arthur was surprised at his sincerity, and couldn’t help but feel some of the weight on his shoulders become lighter; if only for a moment, if only until he returned to camp. “That’s good advice, Mister Mason.”

“You can call me Albert.” The other man was somewhat flushed, as if the warm weather didn’t agree with him. “I-I think I would like that.”

Arthur also felt himself grow hot under the collar, and wondered if New Hanover was experiencing an unseasonal heat wave. “Alright then... Albert.”

They began to stroll through a copse of oak trees, and Arthur was glad of the opportunity to rest in the cool of the shadows cast by the tall, thick trunks. Albert took a moment to stop and stare out at the rolling land, stretching out before them in an endless tapestry of uninterrupted wilderness. A few bees buzzed, landing on the poppies and wild daisies that sprung up from the earth.

“Ah, what a beautiful country it is.” Albert sighed, tilting his hat back from his forehead.“Truly spectacular.”

“It can be pretty sometimes, I’ll grant.” Arthur found himself leaning on a tree, looking out at the same view as Albert. “But it’s not so nice when you’re out there trying to make ends meat.”

“Yes, life has its harsher chapters.” There was something in Albert’s voice that made Arthur take notice, a deeper well of sadness he’d never tapped into before.“My mother passed away a decade ago today. Diabetes, a real terrible thing.”

Straightening, Arthur gave Albert a most sympathetic of looks; it was a special kind of pain, losing your mother. At least Albert was lucky enough to have more years with her than Arthur got with Beatrice. “I’m real sorry to hear that.”

“As I said, the past is past.” Arthur cannot be sure, but he could swear that Albert’s brown eyes glisten a little in the light.“For right now, I feel privileged to be here in God’s countryside.” He smiled at the outlaw.  “With a good friend to keep me company.”

“Me too, Albert.”

It was only then Arthur realised that Albert had come _close_ , very close in fact, so close that their noses are just an inch or two from touching. Arthur’s breath catches in his throat when he sees Albert lean in.

“Arthur...”

It happens. They tumble into one another; Arthur is pushed backwards until he hits a tree. Albert is persistent, chewing on the outlaw’s bottom lip and making noises that go straight to Arthur’s crotch.

When they stop to take a breather, Arthur finds his voice again. “We shouldn’t.”

Albert strokes his face. “Perhaps... but I think we shall.” He shushes Arthur gently, as if he’s a spooked animal, and reaches down into the outlaw’s jeans to reveal him. Arthur is already hard as a rock, much to his embarrassment; the rougher, firmer touch of a man sparks something in his gut that most women fail to ignite.

There are exceptions, of course, but they are few are far between. Arthur thought once that Sadie might be able to make him cum, if she went down on him. And Mary...?

He loved her, truly, but she didn’t _excite_ him.

Albert is keen, which is evident from his loving touches, but he hesitates when he sees Arthur’s erection. “Um, do you have anything to...?” He asks, not able to say the words outright. “I’d rather not use spit.”

Arthur understood at once.

“Vaseline. I got some here.” With a shaking hand he takes out the little pot from his bag, handing it to Albert. He’s already lost control of this, but he finds himself unable to care too much.

Albert coats his hands and starts stroking Arthur as caringly as the outlaw imagined he would. The other man uses his _nails_ once or twice, which makes Arthur squirm and nearly loose himself right there. He’s blushing so much that his face feels like its on fire, and worse still Albert is talking to him.

Quietly, in his ear, telling him all sorts of things.

How beautiful he is, how well he is doing, how it was going to be alright because Albert is going to take care of him.

These were intermitted with kisses, some soft, and some not as much to Arthur’s neck, collar bone, ear.

It’s wonderful but altogether too much.

Arthur uses his hat to hide under, concealing his burning face and can barely get the words out he’s so flustered. “Sweet Jesus...”

Albert brushed his lips against Arthur’s ear, his breath sweet and moist. “No, it’s just me.”

The outlaw shuddered, the shiver running down his spine right to his toes.

Albert becomes worried.“Arthur? Are you alright?”

“M’fine...” Muttered Arthur, his view almost completely obscured by the brim of his hat.

“Not you’re not.” Albert said.“You’re hiding.”

The outlaw’s immediate impulse was to argue with him, but something in Albert’s tone forced him to be honest. After all, who else was here to see this? “Just... not used to so much talking, is all.”

“I mean every word of it, you know.” The photographer’s hands travelled upwards, “let me see you.” Albert removed Arthur’s hat, and let it drop to the grass beneath their feet; it landed with a soft sound nearly lost over the hum of nature all around.

Arthur had never felt so.... naked, before. He’d rather be shed of all his clothes and standing bare before Albert like some sort of beast than be without his hat. His face grew redder still, if that was at all possible.

The photographer _must_ have noticed, but he was kind, kinder than Arthur deserved. He laid his forehead against Arthur’s and whispered lovingly to him. “So handsome.”

The outlaw nearly sank to his knees, and ended up gripping the tree behind him for purchase. Albert tugged him off with more urgency, and with a shaking hand Arthur reached down and returned the favour. Albert was not especially big, or small, but he did fit well in Arthur’s palm.

They panted in unison, and before long Arthur’s vision began to cloud and the pressure in his lower regions build till he could hardly stand it. It was exquisite. “Aw _hell_.”

With that, he came with the force of a speeding locomotive. He coated Albert’s hand and when the photographer spilled, he repaid the favour in kind.

They stood for a while, mute in the aftermath, but comfortable. Albert was _still_ talking, petting Arthur’s face, running his fingers through his short beard. “Shh, it’s alright... I’ve got you.”

Arthur lost track of time, and that was something of a relief. Eventually Albert peeled away from him, and the outlaw felt at a loss without him.

The other man tidied himself up, patting down his clothes, and Arthur hurriedly tucked his dick back into his pants and retrieved his hat from where it had been dropped. They couldn’t linger.

“Well, Mister Morgan.” Albert said cheerily, but now slightly breathier than his normal voice. “Shall we continue on our way?”

Arthur licked his lips, they were sore from being kissed. “I think we shall.”

They continued on, walking in a strange but not unpleasant quietude. The sun is dipping across the sky as the afternoon swiftly comes upon them.

“Are you still free to come and help me with those troublesome jackrabbits tomorrow?” Albert asked, looking ahead rather than at Arthur, he sounds tentative. He’s throwing out a line for the outlaw to catch.

Arthur grasps it with both hands.

He bumps Albert with his arm in a companionable fashion, still flushed but happy. “Wouldn’t miss it, Mister Mason.”


End file.
